About Allen Levi
Allen grew up in Columbus, Georgia, attended University of Georgia for degrees in English and Law, and worked as an attorney from 1980 to 1990. He left law practice for two years in 1990, moved to Scotland, and, while there, received a degree in Scottish fiction from the University of Edinburgh. He returned home, resumed law practice for three years, and finally ventured into vocational music in 1996.
Since then, he has worked as a traveling musician, sharing his whimsical, thought-provoking brand of songwriting and storytelling to audiences across the U.S. He has over twenty albums to his credit, as well as hundreds of other unpublished songs.
In 2014, he published The Last Sweet Mile, a memoir of the close friendship he shared with his brother, Gary, who died in 2012. He also wrote and published a children’s book,
Oliviatown, adapted from a song of the same title.
Allen published his first novel, Theo of Golden , in 2023. Learn more here.
When not reading or writing Allen cares for family acreage where he lives with his father, tries to spend time with family nearby, keeps a full schedule of involvement in the small community around him, and dreams of being an artist someday.
THE THEO IN YOU
THE THEO IN YOU
It has been a pleasure these past few months to sign and personalize copies of Theo for many of you. A number of the inscriptions I’ve written, including ones to people I don’t yet know personally, contain the phrase “with thanks for the Theo in you.”
Perhaps that begs the question: is there a Theo in each of us?
I say yes, on two grounds.
1) The word “Theo,” as you’ve probably perceived already, is a nod to deity. As a prefix, the two syllables are used in words like theology, theophany, theodicy, theocratic, and so on. Their presence hints at divinity, at sacredness, at the everlasting. So, is there something of the divine, something sacred, something everlasting about us? I’ll answer that question with some questions: aren’t we “all created in God’s likeness”? Doesn’t God’s image, marred though it might be, reside in us? Doesn’t the Book say that people are, like nothing else in creation, “the image and glory of God”? I like CS Lewis’s statement that we were designed and created to be ‘‘little Christs,” to reflect the love, the beauty, the goodness and fullness of life that is in God. The Theo DNA is in us all.
And then,
2) Isn’t there within all of us (precisely because of reason 1) a heart that is capable of great kindness, grace, and generosity. That is the kind of heart I tried to capture in the old man from Portugal, one which expresses itself winsomely in word and deed. The prospect of living as Theo lived is not at all fictitious. It’s a matter of surrender, of ‘art lovingly done.’ I’m thankful for the Theo in you today.
For personalized copies email [email protected]
THE THEO IN YOU
THE THEO IN YOU
It has been a pleasure these past few months to sign and personalize copies of Theo for many of you. A number of the inscriptions I’ve written, including ones to people I don’t yet know personally, contain the phrase “with thanks for the Theo in you.”
Perhaps that begs the question: is there a Theo in each of us?
I say yes, on two grounds.
1) The word “Theo,” as you’ve probably perceived already, is a nod to deity. As a prefix, the two syllables are used in words like theology, theophany, theodicy, theocratic, and so on. Their presence hints at divinity, at sacredness, at the everlasting. So, is there something of the divine, something sacred, something everlasting about us? I’ll answer that question with some questions: aren’t we “all created in God’s likeness”? Doesn’t God’s image, marred though it might be, reside in us? Doesn’t the Book say that people are, like nothing else in creation, “the image and glory of God”? I like CS Lewis’s statement that we were designed and created to be ‘‘little Christs,” to reflect the love, the beauty, the goodness and fullness of life that is in God. The Theo DNA is in us all.
And then,
2) Isn’t there within all of us (precisely because of reason 1) a heart that is capable of great kindness, grace, and generosity. That is the kind of heart I tried to capture in the old man from Portugal, one which expresses itself winsomely in word and deed. The prospect of living as Theo lived is not at all fictitious. It’s a matter of surrender, of ‘art lovingly done.’ I’m thankful for the Theo in you today.
For personalized copies email [email protected]